" At once his attention was arrested, but as the conversation
was carried on in an undertone, he caught only vague, detached words.
Still, he was sure that he had heard "Raphael" after the name,
"Sansevero," "disappearance," and then something like "secret service."
But his presence evidently had become known, for as he passed on out
into the street the two in blue coats were talking loudly about the
excursion to Tivoli and the scenery _en route_.
Walking out into the middle of the square where the cabs stand, he
jumped into the first one, but he looked cautiously back toward the men
in front of Cook's, before telling the driver to take him to the Palazzo
Sansevero.
Here the _portiere_ in his morning clothes, very different from the
gorgeous apparel of afternoon, was sweeping out the courtyard. Holding
his broom handle with exactly the same dignity with which, later in the
day, he would hold his mace, he informed the stranger that his
excellency the prince was not at home--neither was her excellency the
princess. Upon being asked whether Miss Randolph were perhaps at home,
he altogether forgot his imperturbability. That a _signore_ should send
in his card to a _signorina_ was so far outside the range of his
experience that the man stood with his mouth open, unable even to think
what answer to give.
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